Past Zero
by Holly Marsh
Summary: Based on Agatha Christie's "Towards Zero" and contains SPOILERS for that novel. Characters etc. are Christie's, not mine. Intended as a sort of mini epilogue, featuring Mary Aldin, Thomas Royde, and Audrey Strange.


**Past Zero**

Mary Aldin stood alone on the terrace, shivering slightly. The sky was overcast, and the temperature had dropped considerably. Nevertheless, it seemed much pleasanter to her than the hot spell of a few days ago. It was not the weather. It was the feeling of relief after the lifting of the shadow that had hung over Gull's Point then - the shadow of murder, of the knowledge that someone in their midst must be a murderer.

Mary cast her mind back over recent events. After Nevile Strange's rather terrifying collapse and subsequent arrest, they had all come back to the house together: Superintendent Battle, Angus McWhirter, Thomas Royde and herself, Kay Strange and Ted Latimer, who had still been dripping wet from his involuntary bathe in the bay. Ted had come for Kay's sake, of course. Kay, whom he had always loved.

Mary considered Kay. Her reaction to Nevile's breakdown had been a little unexpected. She had turned very pale, but after her initial shock and horror, no tears had followed. She had waited until going ashore and then, white and shaking, had turned at once to Ted. He had taken her in his arms and promised to look after her in a warm, tender voice that Mary had never heard him use before, but that she had found almost unendurably touching.

Kay and Ted had stopped at Gull's Point only to collect a few of Kay's things, and had then left together. Ted had returned alone the following morning to fetch the rest of Kay's belongings. He had spoken to Mary quite nicely, all his past bitterness dispelled. He and Kay, he said, would soon be returning to London together. He had confided to Mary that he meant to marry her as soon as the business of Nevile was entirely sorted out.

Well, Mary thought, why not? Why should Kay be broken-hearted over the loss of a husband who had never really loved her, who had used her only as a cover for what was underneath. Bitter resentment, anger, hatred... all directed against his first wife, Audrey.

Audrey. All along, she had been the one woman Nevile had really cared about. But what had begun as love had developed into a possessive obsession, and when Audrey had decided to leave him for another man, that obsession had turned to hate. More than hate. Loathing. A loathing so intense, so mad, that he had plotted and very nearly carried out a campaign of terror against her that was to have ended with her death by hanging.

Mary shuddered. Well, Audrey was free of that now. Free of the past, and free to settle down with a man whose love for her had been unwavering since her girlhood. Thomas Royde would not be possessive, he was not that kind. He would be a protector to Audrey, as he had always meant to be, and no doubt an enormous comfort. Mary was glad, for his sake. He had loved Audrey for so long.

Even as she thought of Thomas Royde, she heard his slow footfall behind her. He came to stand beside her, and looked out across the bay. Mary glanced at him. He looked as she would always remember him. Heavy and slightly brooding, solidly dependable. What a rock he had been to her throughout.

'So,' Mary said at last, 'are you all packed?'

'Ah-hum,' he replied in his customary taciturn way. 'Shall have to be up early tomorrow.'

'What time?' she asked. 'I'll drive you to the station, if you like.'

He shook his head. 'No need for you to trouble yourself. Can take a taxi.'

'It's no trouble, I assure you. I'll be up anyway. I'm not letting you leave in the morning without saying goodbye.'

'Don't much like goodbyes,' he grunted. 'Would much rather not...'

Mary would have said more then, but just at that moment, Audrey appeared at the end of the terrace. Thomas turned towards her, and Mary saw the determination come into his face.

Audrey approached them, her eyes fixed on Thomas as she said, 'Hello, Mary.'

'Hello.'

A sudden inexplicable uneasiness crept over Mary. She read from the determined look on Thomas Royde's face that this was to be the moment. He would ask Audrey now, and soon they would be married. True love would be rewarded at long last. It was how it should be, Mary told herself. It was about time. How often had she not felt during the past weeks that she would like to give Thomas a nudge in the right direction, or to lock him and Audrey in a room together and force him to pop the question at last. And now the time had come.

Mary made an excuse and went into the house, purposely leaving them alone together. Once inside, she took a deep breath. She felt strangely exhausted. She supposed it was quite a normal reaction to the long ordeal she had been through, all that doubt and suspicion, and not being sure whether she really knew the people she thought she had known for so many years. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that soon the house that had been full of people until a few days ago would be empty but for herself and the handful of servants who were staying on until it could be sold, and she would be left quite alone.

Turning slightly, she looked out through the French windows at the couple standing on the terrace. Thomas Royde's back was to her, but she saw Audrey put her arms around his neck, and turned quickly away. Well, she thought, that was that. True Thomas, it seemed, was to be rewarded for the long years of patient waiting at last. Dear Thomas.

The French windows opened, and Audrey walked into the room.

'I'm going upstairs to pack,' she announced. 'And then to bed, I think. It will be an early start tomorrow. Good night, Mary.'

Her words caused Mary an odd sort of pang. She answered mechanically.

'Yes. Yes, of course. Good night.'

She watched Audrey go out, and then looked once more to the terrace. Thomas was still out there, now lighting his pipe with the usual awkwardness that came from performing the task with a groggy arm. It was with a surprisingly painful feeling of finality that Mary went back outside and joined him.

'Well, Audrey's gone to pack,' she said. Her own voice sounded unnatural somehow.

'Yes.'

The silence that ensued was oppressive. Mary regretted that. There had never been any awkwardness between her and Thomas Royde before, and she did not want there to be any now. Not when he would soon be leaving for Malaya, and who knew when - if ever - he would return. She forced herself to speak.

'It will feel strange after you have left. The house will be so empty.'

'Suppose it will.'

'Are you going straight back to Malaya, or...'

'No,' the answer was quite explosive, and most unlike him. Mary was startled. Seeming to realise it, he cleared his throat and said gruffly, 'Going to pop in on the mater first.'

'Oh, I see.'

Again there was a pause. It lengthened. Thomas stood silently smoking his pipe, and Mary began to shiver once again as the first droplets of rain began to fall.

'It's getting cold. I think I'll go inside,' she said, turning away.

'Mary!' Thomas called.

She looked back. He was removing his coat, and held it towards her.

Surprised, Mary said, 'But it's starting to rain!'

'Not too heavy yet,' he replied. 'Might blow over - stay with me, Mary?'

He said it gently, appealingly even. Bemused, Mary returned to his side like someone walking in a dream. He placed the garment around her shoulders and turned away again. Mary hugged the coat close to her and stood there, waiting for something, though what she did not know. Presently Thomas spoke again, this time with dull resignation.

'Audrey's going to marry that McWhirter fellow.'

Mary stared at him. Blinked. She was tempted to ask him to repeat the words, but one look at his profile was enough to confirm it. His expression was grim and set. A bewildering range of emotions chased through her. Surprise, confusion, indignation on his behalf and a secret, most unexpected, yet almost overwhelming sense of relief which, in turn, occasioned her a severe pang of guilt.

She could think of nothing to say, she could only stand and stare, struggling to make sense of her own feelings while imagining what depths of disappointment and grief must meanwhile have been torn open for the immovable, outwardly calm man who stood beside her.

Thomas Royde, meanwhile, having got the main burden off his chest in this way, now broke into what, by his standards, was an extraordinarily lengthy monologue.

'Apparently McWhirter saved her life twice. Meant to kill herself on the same spot where he did. I had no idea. Tried to reason with her. Told her she hardly knows the fellow. Never know what sort of a chap he might be. Wouldn't change her mind. Says she doesn't believe I really want to marry her anyway. Seemed to think I'd be better off... She spoke very kindly.'

Mary's sympathy won over her other emotions at this point, and words spilled forth.

'Oh, Thomas. I'm so sorry. It's so unfair! After you have loved her for so long - it shouldn't happen to someone as kind and true as you are!'

He turned to face her, and stood looking at her for some time. It was an appraising look rather like he had given her before. She had not minded it then, and she did not mind it now. On the contrary. She liked it when he looked at her like that.

'Do you really mean that, Mary?' he asked at last.

'What? Of course I do.'

He shook his head. 'You're wrong. I'm not terribly kind.'

'You've been kind to _me_,' she said positively, adding, 'You've been such a comfort. I can't tell you how grateful I've been to you these past weeks. I hate seeing you hurt like this.'

There was a pause, then he said gently, 'Thank you, Mary.'

He studied her again. After a while he went on in a tone that, while presumably meant to be casual, did not quite succeed in coming across that way.

'Will still have a few days on my hands after I've seen the mater. Was thinking of taking Audrey to buy a few things she'd need back in Malaya. No need now, of course.' He paused, then said with new resoluteness, 'Will you still be here?'

She replied confusedly, stammering a little, 'Why? I mean... yes, I... I'll be here.'

'In that case, would it be all right if I... came back?'

'You know it would,' Mary said warmly. 'You're always welcome, Thomas.'

**The End**


End file.
